No Limit To Infinity
by Iamokota
Summary: As she climbed into the passenger seat of the Denali, Sara thought of the victim, Allison Cameron, and felt anger well up in her. I will find justice for you, she thought. I promise. CSIHouse Crossover! You don't need to know House to understand.
1. Apriori

**A/N:** This story was co-written as a CSI/House crossover with Holadios. She will be writing the House components to this story, and I will be writing the CSI components. You do not need to have seen House before to understand the story line. Please enjoy and don't forget to review - we love feedback!

**Disclaimer:** Niether one of us owns CSI or House, as sad and heartbreaking as that is.

* * *

Sara Sidle looked up as her boss, Gil Grissom, entered the break room. Sara watched Grissom carefully as he shuffled the assignment sheets in his hands and squinted around at her and her coworkers. He was looking extremely grave, which was saying something, because Gil Grissom always looked grave. He had even pulled Catherine, Nick, and Warrick from swing shift, which was never a good thing. Sara sighed inwardly and waited for the bad news.

Grissom sighed. "Busy night," he said looking around at them. "Nick, you have a 419 out in Henderson. Should be pretty cut and dry. The prime suspect is the man who called it in. He claims it was an accident. You need to confirm."

Nick nodded, grabbed the sheet from Grissom, and headed out the door.

"Catherine," Grissom said, glancing at her. "You're on a 426 in Summerlin. There are two different victims, a mother-daughter duo. The husband and father is the prime suspect. Mother claims he's been abusing them for years."

Catherine grimaced. "I hate these cases," she said. Grissom held the sheet out and she snatched it from him still muttering darkly. Sara glanced up at Grissom as Catherine left the room, wondering if he had purposely kept her off that particular case, given what she had confessed to him a few months before. She shook her head and decided she didn't want to know…right at that particular moment.

"The rest of us," he said, glancing around at Warrick, Sara, Sofia, and Greg. "Are on a 419 down on the Strip."

Sara glanced up at him. "Why so many of us?" she asked, frowning. "Aren't five CSI's a little excessive?"

Grissom looked down at her. "It's the Strip," he said simply, giving her his characteristic look. "Sheriff wants the scene cleared quickly. Dead bodies are bad for tourism."

Sara had to smile at that one. The sheriff was a royal pain in all their asses, but he seemed to have a special place in his heart for pissing Grissom off.

"Anything else?" Grissom asked, looking around. They all shook their heads. "Let's go."

The crime scene was in front of New York, New York on the street level. A small crowd was gathered just beyond the crime scene tape and Sara did not envy the person Grissom assigned for crowd duty. Sara climbed out of the Denali and followed Grissom and the others under the crime scene tape where Brass met them. Sara caught a glimpse of the body, sprawled on the ground next to a low rising wall, but couldn't tell anything from a distance. She turned her attention back to Brass.

"What've you got for us, Jim?" Grissom asked, without preamble.

"Victim's name is Allison Cameron," Brass said, looking around at all of them. "She's a doctor at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, back east. We ID'ed the vic from her hospital ID. Next of kin is listed as a Peter Cameron, the vic's brother. We're still trying to reach him. Coroner pronounced 15 minutes ago. She's all yours."

Grissom thanked Brass and then turned to the CSI's assembled behind him. "Greg and Sofia, you take the perimeter. See if the killer left anything behind. Warrick, you get to go crowd surfing. Go with Brass and help him conduct the interviews, see if anyone saw anything. Sara," he said, turning to her. "You're with me on body duty. Let's get what we can before the elements do."

Sara nodded and retrieved their kits from the back of the Denali while Grissom went to talk to David, the assistant coroner, about the body. Sara glanced around at the crowd as she walked and her eyes locked momentarily with a dark haired man standing near the back of the crowd. She slowed slightly as they looked at one another and then the man glanced away quickly and moved out of her line of sight. Sara picked her pace back up, but she was slightly disconcerted. There was something oddly familiar about the dark haired stranger, but Sara couldn't quite put her finger on it. She shook her head, putting the man and the crowd out of her mind. She had a body to process.

David smiled at her as she walked up. Grissom was gazing intently at the body and noticed nothing. Sara sat their kits down next to the body and knelt down so she could talk with the two men. The victim was young, about 30 years old. Her hair was dark and long, and her form was slender. Sara suspected she must have been very beautifulSara felt a brief stab of anger before the investigator in her took over and deadened her emotions. She looked up at David.

"Preliminary cause of death?" she asked him.

David moved the victim's hair aside and pointed at the bruises circling her neck. "Bruising on her throat points to strangulation. Since there are no ligature marks, it is probable that the killer used his or her hands. The victim also has bruises on her wrists, indicating that she was either restrained or manhandled. Doc Robbins will be able to tell you more after autopsy. I'd say she's been dead about five hours, but I don't think she was killed here. Lividity is wrong for her position. I'd say she was strangled, let sit for a couple of hours, and then dropped here."

Sara nodded and David stood up. "Let me know when she's ready for transport," he said and walked away.

Sara looked at Grissom who was already combing the body for evidence. "First blush?" she asked.

Grissom looked up at her thoughtfully. "Strangulation is a personal crime," he said. "The killer must be very close to his or her victim to pull it off. I'd say she probably knew her killer, perhaps was even involved with him or her in some way. She was dumped in a public area, indicating that the killer wanted her to be found. Possibly because he or she cared about the victim?"

Sara nodded. "Okay. I'll take the head if you'll take the feet."

Grissom smiled and Sara started her work. She lifted some hairs and fibers off of the victim's shirt and ran the ALS over her clothes to see if there were any fluids that shouldn't be there. It took the two investigators about an hour to process the body. When they were finished, David and his crew loaded the body into the coroner's van, while Grissom and Sara inspected the surrounding area. When that was finished, they headed back to the Denali, where Warrick, Greg, and Sofia were waiting.

"Did anyone find anything interesting?" Grissom asked them.

Greg shook his head. "We searched all around, but nothing really distinctive popped up. We took a few swabs and bagged some stuff, but it mainly looks like normal street clutter."

Grissom glanced at Sofia, who nodded, confirming Greg's account. Grissom turned to Warrick, his eyebrow raised.

Warrick sighed. "Brass and I talked a couple of people who thought they might have seen something, but nobody really had much to contribute. Most of them seemed to think that the street was clear one minute and the body magically appeared the next."

Grissom nodded. "Sara, you want to fill them in on what we found on the victim?"

Sara nodded. "We got a few fibers and hairs off of her, but that was about it."

Grissom looked around thoughtfully. "I didn't expect to find much evidence here," he said. "David said she was dumped, so this is only a secondary crime scene. Hopefully Doc Robbins will have something for us when we get back to the lab. I'll go tell Brass that we're done here."

Sara watched Grissom walk away, her mind already going over the few pieces of evidence they had managed to collect. It wasn't much and Sara knew that they had their work cut out for them. As she climbed into the passenger seat of the Denali, Sara thought of the victim, Allison Cameron, and felt anger well up in her.

_I will find justice for you_, she thought_. I promise_.


	2. Aegri Somnia

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait in updating! Holadios and I have both been busy with other stories/life. Reviews would be wonderful!

**Disclaimer:** Niether one of us owns CSI or House, as sad and heartbreaking as that is.

* * *

He tapped his foot as he waited impatiently for her to arrive. He was sitting at a table for two, currently only a table for one, watching the various people passing him by and settling down to their own meals. He noted with a fleeting hint of annoyance that none of them were sitting by themselves. She had clearly wanted him at this restaurant because it was a place for couples. 

Couples…The word resounded emptily in his head. Being part of a couple was not something he had thought about for a long time, and since Stacy had left, it was not something he thought he would ever think about again. Even as it was, he didn't really think about being a couple with his co-worker. Her request had been unexpected, surprising, and yet, he felt himself oddly contented by it.

That someone would want him again, that was a new feeling. That someone wouldn't completely reject him, take one look at the cane and stare him down. He wasn't one to really care what people thought of him, but at the same time, he wasn't about to pretend that he wasn't lonely. Maybe it would be good to get into the dating scene again.

Of course, that only worked if the date showed up. It was now nearing seven thirty – she had said seven – and Cameron was half an hour late. From what he could see at work, she was not one to be late. She was too much of a perfectionist, cared too much, simply cared too much, and while he sometimes found that quality about her rather irksome, given how little he himself cared about anything, he knew it was one of her defining traits. So the question hung there, in the air, empty.

Where was she?

Had she stood him up? Pain shot through his chest at the very thought. He didn't want to pretend that he cared enough to care about whether or not she stood him up, but at the same time, being stood up was never fun. He had prepared too much, had thought about this too much, had second-guessed himself and consulted Wilson, and even bought that damn corsage for her – he had done much too much for it to end this way.

Did she really not want the job that badly? Was she having second thoughts about coming back to work for him? He sighed angrily. Even if that were true, would she hurt him over the job? He supposed he didn't really know how much she cared about him – he supposed it had been a lot. She had cared enough to be blunt and _say_ that he had feelings for her, even though he said he didn't. She had cared enough to ask him whether or not he liked her. He had said no.

He wasn't really sure what to think about her. Young, pretty – no, gorgeous – and make that not young, but half his age. Caring. Gentle. Kind. Talented. She should have been a model. But she had become a doctor. He had to admit that was as sexy as it was intriguing. He may not be a man of principle, but he didn't think Cuddy would approve if he suddenly started dating his fellows. Besides, what would Foreman and Chase say? The two males would probably shout something about favoritism, they'd blab to Cuddy, and he'd be forced to let some of his team go, probably Cameron. No, he couldn't have that.

He checked the clock again. Now Cameron was forty-five minutes late. He was only going to wait another fifteen, he decided. One hour was more than enough time. He stopped a passing waiter and asked for another drink. The waiter gave him somewhat of a sympathetic smile as she walked off to fill the order.

House knew he looked pretty pathetic sitting there by himself. He pulled out his cell phone, which he had for once turned off, in anticipation for the date. He turned it back on now, thinking he would call Wilson and just be absolutely sure that he hadn't heard anything House hadn't.

Wilson picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"It's me."

"House?" Wilson sounded shocked. "What – Why are you calling me on your date with Cameron?"

"Because I'm not on a date with Cameron," he answered quietly, twirling the silver fork between his fingers as he tried to look inconspicuous and unconcerned. "She isn't here."

"She stood you up?"

"No, she didn't stand me up!" he exclaimed angrily. He sighed. "I don't know. Have you heard anything?"

"No, I haven't," Wilson responded. He sounded a bit worried now. "Do you think something happened?"

"I don't know," he muttered. He looked at the clock. "Think I should leave?"

He heard Wilson sigh heavily on the other side of the line. "It's been fifty minutes, House," he said gently. "I don't think she's coming."

"All right." There was no point in pretending any longer. He had been stood up. Maybe Cameron would apologize tomorrow for some unbeknownst crisis that had arisen that had prevented her from telling him anything or showing up. Or maybe Cameron would just avoid him altogether. Perhaps she had run? Maybe she had changed her mind about this, about everything. He sighed. Even though he had told himself he wouldn't get his hopes up, and even though it had only been the slimmest chance anyway, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. Let down. Rejected.

He signaled the waiter for the check and paid the bill in cash. He then left the restaurant, trying to pretend that there were no sympathetic stares from any of the other customers. But for once he knew they were not staring at him that way for his cane. That knowledge made him feel even worse.

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He awoke in a cold sweat with his sheets and blankets tangled around him. Breathing heavily, he turned on the lamp beside him. The warm light flooded the room, throwing everything into sharp relief. Though it had just been a dream, it had been his worst nightmare.


End file.
